


alistair's fall

by gumjokester



Category: Ever After High
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gumjokester/pseuds/gumjokester
Summary: alistair fulfils a promise, and makes some new friends.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. FIRST. the fall

It was almost Alistair’s bedtime when there was a knock at the door.  
It was soft, at first, and Alistair hopped out of his chair to answer it, before his elbow was caught sharply by his mother, holding him back.  
“Mummy?” he asked confusedly, trying to twist out of her painful grip. Alice said nothing, staring intently at the door. Her chest rose and fell like a cat’s - quickly and shallowly.  
The knock came again, louder this time, and then the sound of something else hitting the door. Something hollow, and metal.  
“It’s them.” Alice said, and her voice thickened with tears. “Oh God, it’s them. How the… how did they… oh God. OK. OK.” She pulled Alistair quickly into the kitchen, and shut the door. Then she locked the door with the key around her neck, which Alistair had seen her do before, and leant a chair up against the handle, which he hadn’t.  
Alice crouched down, and looked at her son with red, wide eyes. “Alistair, do you remember what you promised me?”  
A horrible bang sounded out in the hallway, and a man’s voice shouted something from outside that Alistair didn’t understand.  
“Mum, what’s happening?” he asked, eyes stinging at the sight of his mother’s tears.  
“Pay attention to me, Alistair. Do you remember?”  
He nodded. “But, I don’t have to do it now, do I? Can’t we just talk to them like last-”  
Alice yanked him back from the doorway, and gripped both his wrists hard as she stared at him.  
“No. It’s too late, Alistair. You have to go to the rabbit hole.” Her hair was matted over one of her eyes, and the one that he could see was ringed with black, like a badger’s. The room was still dark, save for the watery streetlight outside, and the shadows jumbled with her hair, so it looked like part of her head was gone. Alistair wondered whether that was how she would be in a moment.  
“You remember what I told you?”  
He nodded, helpless.  
Alice smiled. “The riddle, well done. What is it? Why is a raven-”  
“Like a writing desk?”  
“There you go, smart boy. And don’t worry about me, OK? Mummy’s going to be fine, and I love you very very much, but you have to be very fast now. You need to run as fast as you can, all the way out to the stream, and it’s going to be dark but I promise you won’t have to search. The rabbit hole will be there. It will find you. OK?”  
Alistair felt his throat open and close, like the rhythm of a pendulum. “OK, Mummy. Love you lots.”  
“I love you lots, too, my darling.” Tears streaked her face like the veins in her arms, and she pressed him into her chest so hard that Alistair thought she might snap herself in half. The banging in the hallway got louder.  
Alice pulled away, and looked right into her son’s eyes. “Now run.”  
So he did.  
Alistair ran faster than he’d ever made himself run before. The tops of his legs started to burn as he pushed himself out of the back window, up the garden stairs, over the wooden gate, down the lane in the pitch dark, grass whipping at his ankles. Over the thudding heartbeat in his ears, he heard men shouting in the distance, and a woman’s piercing scream.  
Alistair ran faster.  
The dark and his tears had obscured his vision so much that he only realised he’d reached the stream when he tripped over a tree root and fell face-first into mud. He rolled onto his side, breathing through the burning pain in his chest, and as the heartbeat in his ears began to quiet, he heard the sound of running water.  
The world came into fuzzy clarity in the dark, and the moonlight glinted off the streamwater, illuminating what was on the other side. It was a vast, gnarled tree, its branches dark and low, its roots pulled apart at the centre, knotting with the ground to frame a gaping, shadowed mouth that was about as big as Alistair was wide.  
He had not expected the rabbit hole to find him so fast.  
He stepped carefully over the stream, and pushed his head inside. It smelled of earth and damp, and Alistair could see absolutely nothing but black. He pushed his arm inside and felt no walls - it seemed to expand out like a cavern, empty and infinite. He had no idea how far down it went.  
Alistair backed out of the opening and sat still for a moment, his heart racing, wondering whether he really should go inside. Perhaps this was the wrong rabbit hole. Perhaps he would just fall and fall forever, with no fantastical land to meet him, only terrible dark and damp walls. Perhaps his mother really was mad, and he would only starve to death underneath a tree, having believed her lies about a world at the end of a burrow.  
Alistair knew any of these things could be true, so decided to make sure in the only way he knew how. He poked his head inside the rabbit hole again, and began to repeat his mother’s riddle, down into the darkness.  
“Why is a raven-”  
Alistair stopped short as he heard the incredible echo of his voice bounce back to him. " _-like a writing desk? _" it replied._  
_ It was a grand, crisp sound, like he’d just shouted into a great marble hallway, and a cool breeze touched upon his face, stirred up from far below.  
This was the right rabbit hole. So there was only one thing for it. Alistair sucked in a breath, gripping the grassy edge, and tried to find the strength to fall forward. He remembered his mother’s frantic, darting eyes, the way she always hid him from the following men, the promise he’d made and remade to her for years.  
 _If it all becomes too late, you go to the rabbit hole _.__ And it was far too late now. _  
_“Bye, Mum,” Alistair whispered, and pushed himself forward into nothingness.


	2. SECOND. the hall

It was impossible to say how long Alistair fell for, because he had very little sense of it himself. It might have been an hour, or several, but it couldn’t have been a day because Alistair was sure he would have been hungry by then, and he still felt quite full when he landed on the marble floor of the giant hall his mother told him about.  
He remembered her saying it was big, but was still shocked by the towering white marble walls, stretching up into invisibility, and the many doors of all different sizes that surrounded him. Some were long and thin, others were very squat, all were made of a shiny, dark wood. In the middle of the hall was a glass table supported by elegant gold legs, on which sat a bottle. On the floor there was a small, ornate box. Alistair remembered what his mother had told him.  
First, he searched for the tiniest door. Alice had said the top of the doorframe had reached her knees, so Alistair lined himself up with every door in the hall to check, and eventually found one on the far side that was more or less like his mother described. It was knee-high, covered by a red silk curtain, and when Alistair moved it aside to look through the keyhole, all he could see was white light poking through a criss-cross of plant stems. This was the door to the garden.  
Alistair felt his heart speed up in his chest - he never thought he’d be here so early. He’d presumed that when he arrived he would be older, wiser, more confident in the adventure. He thought his mother would be waiting above-ground, sitting ready for him to race to her and retell every incredible thing he saw, and understand them all. It felt wrong to be in the hall like he was; alone and cold and covered in mud, with no mother on the surface to welcome him back. Alistair briefly wondered if there was anyone left above-ground who would believe him when he told them what he saw in the garden, but decided it wasn’t important. This was happening now, and however much his heart was beating, the only thing to do was what he had been told; first, take the key.  
It was on the glass table, as promised, along with the bottle. Alistair took them both and placed them on the floor, a plan neatly unfurling in his head. His mother had said that the drink made you shrink and the cake made you grow, so he would take both and use them as necessary in the garden. He lifted the lid to the box on the floor, and took out the small cake square, though it lacked the icing his mother had described, spelling EAT ME. Alistair checked the bottle, too, and it’s DRINK ME label was also missing.  
“Interesting,” he muttered to himself. His mother had always talked about the instructions on the food, and even labeled his packed lunches in the same way on the few days he was ever in school. He felt a little cheated, but supposed the drink and cake did the same things regardless of being labeled, and uncorked the bottle to take a very tiny sip.  
But before he even brought the bottle to his mouth, a soft click from the far side of the hall caught his attention, and the curtain covering the knee-high door was pulled back, revealing an open passage into the garden. Alistair frowned. _It was unlocked anyway? Very curious _. This was not turning out at all how his mother described.  
Alistair moved forward to investigate, but stopped, startled, as a very pale arm emerged from the doorway, pushing something into the hall. Alistair recognised it as a piping bag, full of pink icing. The arm then pushed in a pot of ink, a very elegant-looking pen, and a paper tag with string.  
_Better late than never _, Alistair thought, and placed the cake back in the box and the drink back on the table, so as to make it easier for the decorator to do their work.  
Then a very small, stark white rabbit hopped through the doorway, and Alistair smiled in recognition. He was grateful to finally see the white rabbit, after hearing so much about him from his mother, but could not go to greet him since as fast as the rabbit had appeared, it jumped up and in a single second became a tiny little girl, like changing the picture in a slideshow. Alistair found it very impressive. She was facing the other way, so didn’t notice him as she brushed off her skirt and bent down to pick up the piping bag, but their eyes met at once when she turned towards the table. The girl froze completely. Her nose twitched as she stared at Alistair with spookily wide eyes, saying nothing. While her nose was bright pink, the rest of her face was even paler than her arms, and Alistair could see the little blue veins that ran up her cheeks. She looked about Alistair’s age.  
“Hello,” he said. “Are you decorating the cake?”  
“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” said the girl. Her voice was very high and reedy, but she spoke with accusation.  
“Really? Oh, sorry, my mum told me to come. It was…” Alistair attempted to think of the right word. “An emergency.”  
The girl pulled a shiny pocket watch from her skirt. Her nose twitched again. “Oh dear. Yes, you’re too early. Much too early. Years too early. Oh dear.” She looked back up at Alistair. Her stare was fearful but still accusatory. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly with her breath. “I need another watch. No, I need to tell Dad. Dad will know. We’re going to have to reschedule.” Without saying anything more, the girl turned, became a rabbit once more, and bolted out through the doorway, leaving all her materials behind.  
“It was very nice to meet you,” Alistair called after her, but she had already disappeared into the wilderness.____


	3. THIRD. the path

Alistair fit through the door after only a dab of the shrinking drink on his tongue - he’d remembered to be very cautious with it, having been told his mother’s story of nearly breaking her elbows with how hard they hit the floor as she shrank. He took the cake, too, and the key, though he wasn’t sure what use it might have.  
The garden was massive, even after Alistair had used the cake to nibble himself back up to his approximate height (he’d held his hand over his head to make sure, but it didn’t help much). The grass was thick, purplish, and spiralled around his shins. Spindly flower stems held themselves in the ground, supporting towering networks of stripy roots, curling around themselves and each other, casting shadows over Alistair and the rustling shrubs by his feet. Hundred-coloured bugs the size of his fist scuttled up and down leaves, and when Alistair leaned in close he heard their harmonised buzz, like the barbershop quartet songs his mother always played.  
There was something one might be able to call a path stretching out ahead of him, and he supposed that was where the rabbit-girl disappeared to. A thought occurred to him it was best to follow her, and he tucked the ends of his trousers into his socks before starting through the waist-high grass. As intriguing as the bugs were, he wasn’t curious as to the effects of their bites.  
For a while, everything was quiet. Alistair clumped along the parted grass, serenaded by the humming bugs, and he had fallen into an almost pleasant hiking stupor by the time he was called to by a lazy voice that seemed to come from nowhere.  
“I spy a loneish traveller,” it said.  
Alistair turned slowly in a circle. He couldn’t see anyone between the trees, but the shadows were thick enough to hide in. “Hello?” he called into the darkness.  
“Hello yourself,” the voice giggled, suddenly coming from directly above him. “Up here.”  
Alistair craned his neck up to a thick, winding tree branch, across which a girl was sprawled, her narrow eyes watching him, unblinking. A tail that was apparently hers swished from side to side, like the rhythm of a pendulum.  
"I haven't seen you here before," the girl said, somehow. Alistair was surprised she could talk through the wide, eerie grin she had on - it pointed sharply from cheek to cheek and didn't look like it should really fit her face. Her teeth poked out like fangs. Like the rabbit-girl, she looked about Alistair's age.  
"Well, I've never been here before," he replied, attempting to return the girl's unreal smile, but he found it made his face hurt too much. "My mum told me to come, you see."  
The girl giggled again. It was not a comforting sound.  
"Yes, you seem like the type to listen to your mum," she said, tail swaying.  
"Well, why wouldn’t I? Mums know lots of important things, don't you listen to yours?"  
"Never!" The girl looked affronted. "And she never listens to me. We are Cheshires, and Cheshires don't listen to anyone, anywhere, anyever."  
"You're listening to me," Alistair pointed out politely.  
The girl's eyes widened, and she looked away for a moment, cheeks reddening. "Yes, well, you don't count, I've never seen you before."  
"Right," Alistair pretended to understand.  
“Who even are you anyway?”  
"My name is Alistair," he said, and the girl’s expression changed immediately. She leaned forward with wide eyes, suddenly seeming to regard him a lot closer than before.  
"Oh, an _Alistair _,” she giggled, saying his name like it was a very clever joke. “So that’s what this is about. I’m Kitty. We were expecting you a little later than this."  
"Yes, I’ve been told that already, but it was an emergency. It's very nice to meet you, though, Kitty. Have you seen a very small white rabbit pass through here? I think it’s important I follow it."  
Kitty snorted. "Bunny? Oh, golden clovers to deveil when a rabbit takes cover. A better bearing comes with any which-way or the other."  
"Sorry? Did you say any which-way?"  
"Yes. Or the other."  
"So... which way is that?"  
"Is what?"  
“The way I need to go, which is it?”  
“Quite useless with Riddlish, aren’t you Alistair?” Kitty rolled her eyes. "You don’t _need _to go any kind of way - you won’t be finding Bunny anytime soon. But I suppose I can recommend some sights and sounds. How about the Hatter’s Table?" She pointed to a thin opening in the trees in the distance - her nails were as long and sharp as her teeth. “I think you’ll be just in time for tea, if you hurry.”  
“I suppose that’s alright,” Alistair said, “I’m getting hungry anyway. Thank you for your help, Kitty.” She only grinned at him, so he turned and began in the direction of the opening.  
“I’ll see you soon,” Kitty called from behind him, but when Alistair turned around to agree, he found the tree branch empty, her voice once again echoing from nowhere.____


	4. FOURTH. the table

Alistair only walked for a few minutes more down the thin path before it opened out suddenly into a clearing - the hum of bugs disappeared as the trees gave way to a clear teal sky, pinkish grass, and lots of wildflowers he didn’t recognise. In the middle of the clearing sat a long dining table, though somehow it didn’t seem out of place. Vines wound their way up the dark wooden legs and mud stained the ends of the tablecloth, which was littered with the debris of what looked to have been a large afternoon tea. Despite the twenty or so chairs there were only three people sitting down to eat: a very tall man, a little girl, and an exceedingly large hare.  
Alistair smiled as he remembered his mother's story of the tea party. No doubt this was it, which was just as well - he could have done with something to drink. Before he could shout a greeting to the people, though, the little girl noticed him and straight away jumped up onto her chair, waving excitedly to Alistair as if he were an old friend.  
“Wow! He’s very early, Dad!” she said to the man, who smiled.  
“Perhaps it’s us - we’re late! Why don’t you say hello?” he told her, and the girl leapt onto the table, trampling the porcelain plates and leftover cake to get to Alistair. She jumped down from the edge and smiled wide at him with a cheerful but vacant expression, and although she was staring Alistair right in the eyes, it didn’t quite seem like she was seeing all of him.  
“Hello, Alice!” she chirped.  
“Oh, um, I’m not Alice,” Alistair explained. “You must be thinking of my mum - my name is Alistair.”  
“Alis _tair _?” the girl asked, and scrunched up her nose. “Oh, well! Perhaps it’s you that’s not to blame, an Alistair would sound the same! And with sound, there is talking, too - shall we see which you can do?”  
“I… Excuse me?”  
“No need - you’ve not sat down yet, Alistair!”  
With that, the girl grabbed his wrist and pulled him quickly to the table, where the tall man - who Alistair supposed must have been the Mad Hatter, as a good deal of his height was due to the fantastically tall hat atop his head - greeted him with a gap-toothed grin and quickly set a large scone in front of him, layered messily with jam and cream. The hare did not seem pleased, regarding Alistair suspiciously from his side of the table. Alistair smiled politely at him, and tried not to make eye contact.  
“How breaks the dawn chorus, my boy!” the Hatter said, lifting a teapot with at least fifteen spouts. “Half a cup, I presume?”  
“Um…”  
Not waiting for an answer, the Hatter quickly handed him a cup from the various porcelain items on the table, many of which were smashed and unrecognisable. It was missing one side, leaving only a crescent shape with a handle, but the Hatter poured in the tea from two of the fifteen spouts and it filled without a problem, tea rippling against an invisible edge but remaining in the cup. Or half a cup, Alistair supposed.  
He sat there for a while, listening and sometimes speaking, though it was hard to know what the conversation was about. It was mostly the Hatter and the girl who talked - occasionally the hare would throw in a grumbling, unintelligible sentence, and once or twice a dormouse poked its head out of an empty teapot and blinked sleepily at Alistair.  
Eventually he finished his scone, and wiped his face with the edge of the tablecloth, as there didn’t seem to be any napkins. The suns were now low and cold in the sky, so Alistair decided he should ask about the rabbit-girl before it got too dark to see.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, pushing out his chair, “and thank you for the tea, but have any of you seen a very small white rabbit pass through here? Is her name Bunny? I think I need to follow her.”  
“Oh, so you _have _met Bunny!” the girl beamed. “Isn’t she just so spriskly? You’d have to have at least five fast legs to catch up with her-” She quickly ducked her head under the table. “But it seems you’ve only got two. What a shame!”  
“You might find her, though,” said the Hatter, “If you just go where she will be rather than where she is, you’ll have found her before she’s even there!”  
“And where is that?” asked Alistair.  
“Card Castle,” smiled the girl, pointing ahead of her. “Her dad will be there. He’s an advisor, and she always likes to help. She keeps all the clocks very well wound!”  
“Advisor to who?”  
“The Queen of Hearts, silly! Oh, you might meet her, and maybe Lizzie, too! That would be fun, though you do look like the type of person who’s fond of his head. Do you think you’d be upset if someone chopped it off?”  
Alistair unconsciously rubbed his neck. “Well… I think I’d definitely notice.”  
“Then it’s very important that you remember your manners!”  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alistair assured her, and stood up, looking to the slowly sinking suns in the sky. “Before I go, do any of you know what the time is?”  
“Six o’clock,” the girl and the Hatter said in unison.  
“That late? I suppose I should hurry.”  
“To the Castle?”  
“Of course." Alistair began towards the darkening trees. "There’s really nowhere else for me to go.”  
“And no-when else for you to be!” the girl laughed. “You’re funny, Alistair. Oh!” She stuck out her hand suddenly over the table, which Alistair shook - it was shockingly cold. “My name is Madeline.” Her nose scrunched up her freckles as she grinned. “It was wonderful to finally meet you.”  
____


	5. INTERLUDE. the forest

Madeline and the Hatter had told him it was six o’clock, but to Alistair it felt like his bedtime. The trees were blocking out the light from the turquoise sky, and the shadows seemed to climb up from the floor and engulf the forest itself, keeping Alistair from seeing anywhere beyond his hands. The hum of the barbershop bugs was disappearing, and as the darkness grew Alistair was soon accompanied only by silence while he walked. Every few minutes, though, the snap of a branch sounded far away and Alistair stood still, pressed against a tree, hearing his own heartbeat.  
He made the path up as he went, craning his neck to see the stars and find some direction, only to find a tiny, orange moon through the gaps in the trees, and a vast sky of absolute black. At one point Alistair shut his eyes and found that it made very little difference to his vision. If it weren’t for his feet on the ground, he might have guessed he was back inside the rabbit hole, but perhaps a real one this time. Maybe he was really in the silent underbelly of a tree, sitting quietly and madly in the damp, making up people to talk to and places to go as he waited for the impossible return of his mother. _His mother _\- a wailing ache began in his stomach, and Alistair realised how much he missed her.  
He realised how much he wished she were in the forest with him, holding his hand, leading him on. Would she know the way to go? Alistair started to try to walk in the directions he thought she might choose. Left, right, another right, maybe left again? He wasn’t sure. It was dark, and he suddenly felt very cold.  
A branch snapped somewhere close by.  
Alistair pulled himself close to the nearest tree and looked quickly around, his eyes wide and blind. The sound was a lot closer than before, and soon came again - another twig snapped nearly right next to him, but before Alistair could think to move, he heard something else. It was soft, at first, but as he listened closer, he realised it was the voice of a girl. She was singing to herself in rhymes that Alistair didn’t understand.  
“Tallybosh and shudderbogs, the forking twigs a-lurching,” she whispered, her footsteps crunching close to Alistair, “butterwash the royal hogs, the jubjub is a-perching.” She giggled then, and it was a scary, grating sound in the dark.  
Alistair wasn’t sure if this was the rabbit-girl, but he didn’t want to miss a chance. “Bunny?” he cautiously asked in the voice’s direction.  
He heard the girl gasp a little in surprise, but her response was quick and surly. “ _Bunny _? Do I look like a rodent to you?” she snarled.  
“Well, really, you don’t look like anything to me, because I can’t see you,” Alistair explained, “And rabbits aren’t actually rodents, they’re lagomorphs, which are similar to rodents but-”  
“Don’t care,” interrupted the girl, “keep it to yourself. And why are you in the Checkered Forest in the dark anyway? Everyone knows the rule.”  
“If everyone knows the rule, why are you here?”  
“Because I do whatever I like.” Alistair could hear the girl’s smile in the darkness.  
“Why? Are you a princess?”  
“Better - I’m a queen.”  
“You sound a little young to be a queen.” It was true; like the girls he’d met before, this one only sounded as old as Alistair.  
“Well, I’m not a queen yet,” the girl sniffed, “But I could be. I could be anything I like, it’s just that no one lets me.”  
“From what I hear, there’s already a queen at the Card Castle,” noted Alistair. “Maybe a princess, too. Perhaps if I told them about you they would let you be queen for a little bit?”  
“They already know about me,” the girl said darkly. “That’s why I’m out here.”  
“It might be different if I talk to them, though. People know about me here; I don’t know why, but I think I’m important. They might like you more if they know we’re friends."  
"We aren't friends," snapped the girl. "I don't believe in them. Random people who know everything about you - where's the good in that? It's always better to be free than friendful, that's what I know."  
"Not friends, then," Alistair amended. "How about associates? You shouldn't have to stay in this forest all night; it's too cold. We can just find the Castle, and tell them we're associated so they let us in. My name’s Alistair. What’s yours?”  
The girl giggled unnervingly again. “I’m not telling you that,” she said, and a faint light suddenly caught Alistair’s eye through the trees. “Good luck with the guards, Associate Alistair. Remember your manners.” Before he could respond, he heard her footsteps crunch swiftly into the distance.  
At that moment, a man’s deep yell carried through the air.  
“ _Oi _!” he cried. “No one in the Checkered Forest after dark!”  
“I’m sorry!” called Alistair, and the light began to advance towards him. “I was just trying to find my way to the Card Castle!”  
As the light got closer, he saw that it was two men carrying a lantern, and Alistair could hear the clank of armour as they approached. Their shadows made them seem like extraordinarily wide men, but it became clear by the lantern’s light that their bodies were really that of giant cards, over twice as tall as Alistair. Their oddly shaped limbs were covered in armour, but their wide, thin bodies were left bare. One of the cards was the Four of Hearts. The other was Two.  
“What business do you have at the Card Castle?” asked the Four of Hearts gruffly.  
“I was told I’d find someone I need to see there. Bunny? Her dad is an advisor for the Queen of Hearts.” Alistair said, as well-mannered as he could. Then, because it had seemed a point of interest for everyone else he talked to, he decided to add - “My name is Alistair.”  
“Alistair, eh?” The Two of Hearts raised an eyebrow. “I think you’d best come with us, then.”______


	6. FIFTH. the castle

Card Castle was looming and grand, and didn’t look like any building Alistair had seen before. It was curiously shaped, looking like if some giant fist had taken a regular castle and squeezed it very hard. Walls wiggled and jutted out in a way that looked unsafe, creating huge, shadowy overhangs of sideways brick and making the castle itself seem wonky, like it might topple over if you pushed it. Windows were all sorts of shapes in all sorts of places, many of which seemed quite useless to have a window in at all, like a chimney neck, and the ground; though strangely, the chimney’s window had a light on inside.  
“Mind your step, there,” muttered the Four of Hearts, pulling Alistair up as he tripped on a cluster of mushrooms. “Her Majesty will be quite irate if uproot anything in the garden.”  
“Are those the mushrooms that make you grow?” Alistair asked excitedly, recalling more of his mother’s knowledge. “Or was it shrink? How do they taste? May I try one?”  
The cards continued to pull him toward the Castle. “Both, terrible, and absolutely not,” said the Two. “Anything that happens to grow in the Queen of Hearts’ garden, be it weed, wildflower or fungus, can only be given to a citizen outside the Hearts family with the express permission of Her Majesty.”  
“That seems a bit pedantic,” Alistair remarked, and was immediately violently shushed by the cards.  
“You’ll be imprisoned for talk like that!” the Four whispered harshly.  
The Two nodded. “Beheaded, too! Well, not entirely, but almost!”  
“What do you mean, almost?” asked Alistair. “Your head’s either on or off, isn’t it?”  
There was no time to continue the discussion, however, as they had reached the Castle entrance. The Two gave a booming knock on the doors, which were also vast and oddly shaped, with ornate carvings of vines and hearts deep in the wood.  
After a moment, a much smaller pair of doors that seemed to be built into the giant ones opened, and a sliver of yellow light touched Alistair’s face in the darkness. A large white rabbit poked its face out of the opening, scanning them nervously.  
“Albie!” exclaimed the Two cheerfully, and lifted Alistair up by the elbow. “Just the creature we wanted to see! We’ve a boy here who wants to see your daughter. Bunny, isn’t it? We thought it might be important, see; he says his name is Alistair.”  
“ _Alistair _?” Albie jolted in alarm. “Well, she had told me but I thought - you know - she was making things up again. Getting nervous, you know. Oh dear. It’s quite early for all this. Yes, well, I suppose he must have council with the Queen at once. And I suppose I should arrange, but… Oh dear, he’s very early.” He looked to Alistair with wide, pink eyes. “You’re really very early, do you know that, my boy?”  
“Yes, I do. And I’m very sorry. It was an emergency, you see.”  
“Well, of course, when there’s an emergency, I suppose… Can’t be helped, can it? Though one really ought to learn to appropriately schedule an emergency, keep your calendar empty, watch wound, all that… Make it easier…” Albie seemed both to be talking to Alistair and himself, his eyes darting about aimlessly, before he eventually made a decision. “Well, come in, then, come in. I’ll try and arrange a meeting.”  
So Alistair stepped inside the Castle, and was quickly left alone with Albie.  
He was instructed firmly (or as firmly as a two-foot tall rabbit could instruct) to sit in the entrance hall until the council had been arranged, which Alistair tried to adhere to as best he could, but after five minutes he was getting restless. Such strange creatures kept passing him by - an upright pig with painted trotters and a corset, a fish wearing a flatcap, sliming along the floor with its tail, several well-dressed monkeys carrying tray after tray of tea cups - that to Alistair it seemed a shame not to investigate. There were many corridors, too, of all heights and shapes, leading into total darkness or lime green light, heating rolling out of them into the hall or a cold vacuum sucking in the air. Alistair chose the corridor the least creatures seemed to be going down. It was smaller than the others, and toasty warm, with blood-red hearts painted all down its walls, though that was the same for every other wall in the Castle. As Alistair walked, the corridor wound in odd directions, growing bigger and smaller every few metres, heating up and cooling down seemingly at random. He must have walked for ten minutes before encountering a door, which, as he looked down the massive stretch of corridor, looked to be the only one for a while. It was made of a deep red wood, with the same hearts and vines as on the entrance doors, but some much cruder carvings had been gouged over top, scuffing up the varnish. There were several huge crosses, a badly drawn pair of scissors, and the sharp, rune-like carving of the word LIZZIE across the whole width of the door. Alistair remembered Maddie mentioning the name Lizzie when she talked about the Queen of Hearts; it seemed he’d stumbled across her room. He hastily brushed himself down and smoothed out his shirt, remembering her comment about manners, and decided the most polite thing to do was knock on the door, and wait for an answer.  
But before he could even take his fist off the wood, a shrill voice sounded from inside.  
“I’m NOT HUNGRY!”  
“That’s good, then,” Alistair called back, “because I haven’t got any food.”  
For a moment, there was silence, then he heard the scraping and clicking of what must have been ten different locks and bolts, and the door was pulled sharply open. Standing there was a scowling girl, who must have been Lizzie. She was only a little taller than Alistair, but had pulled her head back to make sure she was looking right down her nose at him. Her hair was pulled into a very neat bun, but tufts were sticking out that looked to be chopped at random angles, and she was wearing a baroque red dress, though the hem of it had been sliced in the same, haphazard way.  
“Who are you?”  
“Oh, I’m sure you know me, everyone else does. My name is Alistair.”  
Lizzie’s eyes suddenly went very wide, and her face very red. "WHAT? Just what kind of a time do you call THIS? You could have at LEAST waited until I'd made my alterations! INSOLENT!" She slammed the door in his face. A few seconds later, she opened it again, her face a bright cherry-red.  
“WELL? Aren't you going to come in?"  
“You closed the door-”  
“That’s no excuse. I’ve decided you’re here to help me with my alterations, in order to make up for being so unspeakably early. Really, don’t you ever keep a watch on you? You're out by decades! I would have thought an Alistair would at least have the skill to be on TIME!”  
“It was an emergency,” Alistair muttered, before Lizzie pulled him sharply into the room.__


	7. SIXTH. the council

Lizzie’s room was bigger than Alistair’s entire flat, and messier, too. The blood-red walls were covered in black painted figures and messages, written in symbols Alistair didn’t recognise, and the ceiling stretched up into a dome. Various stuffed toys were hung there by their necks, somehow tied fifteen feet up. Her bed looked like another floor altogether, the massive, canopied expanse of mattress held up on stilts high above his head, with no steps or ladder to reach it.  
“Don’t touch _anything_ ,” Lizzie barked, sticking a finger at Alistair. “Not until I say so. I just need to find the right blades.”  
Almost everything in the room was either red or black, and on the floor. Lizzie sharply kicked things out of the way as she searched, paying no attention to the sounds of them smashing and cracking against the walls. There were lots of stuffed toys on the floor as well as on the ceiling, most without heads, their stuffing spilling out in lumps. Alistair spied the bookcase, overflowing with red and black leatherbound volumes, and quickly squashed the urge to take one out as he noticed the hefty engraved battleaxe leaning up against it. He suspected it wasn’t just for show.  
Eventually, Lizzie pulled out what she was looking for from under a pile of clothes: a large pair of tailor scissors. She held them up to her face, and the blades reached from her chin to the top of her head. She snapped them once at him, like she was preparing to attack, then nodded.  
“These will do,” she said, and threw the scissors at Alistair, blade first, but his caution over scissors seemed to momentarily overpower his fear of Lizzie, and he jolted clumsily away as they hit the floor. Lizzie raised her eyebrows.  
“Well done!”  
She didn’t sound like she was being sarcastic.  
“Nobody ever pays attention to my orders. You’re the first!”  
“Um…I’m sorry?” Alistair tried not to anger her with his confusion. “Did I do that right?”  
“Of course you did! I always say ‘don’t touch anything until I say so’ and people always go and catch things when I haven’t even said ‘so’ yet! You’re good at paying attention Alistair, so at least you have that to be proud of. You can pick up the scissors now, obviously.”  
He supposed that made sense - she had said ‘so’ about three times by now. Alistair picked up the scissors. The metal was strangely heavy, and strangely hot. Lizzie almost smiled at him, and looked down at her dress.  
“I think the hem’s alright for now, but the sleeves could stand to be a bit less bulshy. Some well-placed cuts should see to that - come here.”  
Alistair approached with the scissors.  
“I think you will be placing one quarter-wise cut up from the bottom of each sleeve, and then curve it widdershins so the whole ordeal flattens out into something I can stand to wear. Well? make a start!”  
Alistair thought hard about what a quarter-wise cut could look like, and slowly positioned the scissors at ninety degrees to the sleeve hem, hoping that was what she meant.  
“Didn’t you hear me? I said quarter-wise.”  
Obviously not. He twisted the scissors to forty-five degrees.  
“Quarter-wise.” Lizzie’s face was growing red.  
Alistair moved the scissors again to a random angle.  
“I said _quarter-wise_ , Alistair! You know, maybe you are an imbecile, after all!”  
A heavy knock on the door made them both jump, and saved Alistair from his final (and still likely wrong) guess as to what quarter-wise was.  
“You have been requested to attend the Royal Council, Princess,” a nasal voice called from the hallway.  
Lizzie groaned, and glared at Alistair. “This is your doing, no doubt. I’m sure my mother wants to speak to you - she wants to speak to everyone new. Especially Alistairs, and especially ones as uncouthly early as you.” She looked in the mirror again, and rolled her eyes. “Suppose there’s no more time for alterations. When I get joked at for my bulshy sleeves, you'd better feel absolutely terrible about it. Come on.”  
She grabbed Alistair by the wrist, and dragged him out the door, which swung open without her touching it. The source of the nasal voice, a particularly grizzled-looking fish in the hallway, blinked in surprise at them both.  
“Who are you?” he asked Alistair.  
“Who do you think?” Lizzie sneered. “Filthy, stupid, walking through every door he comes across - it’s an Alistair!”  
The fish gave the closest thing to a smile a fish could manage. “What intuition you have, Princess! The first Royal Council was to send out searchers to find the missing Alistair, but you’ve got him right away! I suppose that means we move onto the second Council - the Royal Greeting! How very efficient!”  
“Is Bunny there?” asked Alistair. “The White Rabbit’s daughter?”  
“Oh yes, she’s there,” replied the fish, “Never misses a Council, that one. But you’ll get to greet everyone in good time. Come along.”  
The two walked behind the fish back to the main hall, Lizzie pointing out the various doors Alistair was never _ever_ allowed to open, and Alistair making the mental note to have a peek behind them later. As they approached the doors to the Council Room, by far the tallest in the main hall, they unlocked without a touch. The solid gold tendrils that criss-crossed all over the red wood wheeled and twisted about, separating from one chaotic network into two, revealing the gap between the double doors that then cracked loudly open, hinges whining in harmony, like the barbershop bugs back in the forest.  
If Lizzie’s room was bigger than Alistair’s flat, then the Council Room was bigger than his entire building. The decorative red hearts he saw everywhere else were plastered over every wall, accented with gold tendrils like the ones on the doors. The floor was tiled with the same red and gold, and so varnished that when Alistair looked down he saw his reflection, illuminated by the giant globe lamps hanging from the impossibly high ceiling. Floors of wooden benches extended from the walls and took up most of the space, though there was actually hardly anyone in them. Alistair spotted the White Rabbit, Albie, in the middle floor, and sitting next to him was an even smaller rabbit, who was undoubtedly Bunny. Alistair waved at her, but she did nothing, which he supposed was alright - he wasn’t sure how rabbits were supposed to wave anyway.  
A few benches above them, Kitty was lying on her stomach, surveying the scene, still grinning. Alistair smiled at her, and she gave him a lazy blink.  
“Calloo, you found him! Well done, Lizzie!” came a voice from the opposite side of the room, and Alistair turned to see Madeline standing on the very top bench, with the Hatter and the Hare beside her, engaged in a brand new afternoon tea. “I’ll pour you both a cup of something!” she shouted, balancing a teapot on her foot, “Would you like badgerleaf or merriroot?”  
“Badgerleaf, please,” called Alistair, thinking it sounded the most interesting, but Lizzie kicked him in the shin.  
“What kind of tulgewater are you drinking?” she bristled. “We’ll both have merriroot, Madeline!” she yelled up at the bench.  
“Okey pokey!” Madeline smiled, kicking the teapot from one foot to the other, like she was playing keepie uppie.  
“You know, Maddie,” Kitty called, her smile clear in her voice, “You can’t kick around teapots like that and not spill anything! It’s quite impossible!”  
“What?” Maddie looked to Kitty, surprised, but as soon as she did, the teapot fell straight down and shattered against her knee, sending the steaming tea all over her and the Hare.  
She shrieked and fell backwards into the Hatter, who quickly materialised a napkin and began to dab her off, and the Hare jumped up and began to scream an unintelligible string of what Alistair guessed were obscenities at Kitty, who’d erupted into peals of laughter.  
“ _Kitty_!” hollered Lizzie, her face instantly cherry-red once more, but before she could go on, a round door towards the back of the room loudly unlocked, and a small tiger burst through, dressed smartly in red velvet. It lifted a long, vertical horn several metres taller than itself to its lips, and sounded a vague, bassy tune that silenced the room and made Alistair’s teeth rattle.  
“Her Royal Majesty and Highness, Ruler of All of Wonderland Excluding That Which is Uncharted or A Waste of Effort, Overseer of Most If Not All Garden Inhabitants, Keeper of the Jubjub Bird, Owner of the Royal Fungi, Sounder of the Battle Horn, Croquet Champion, and Flamingo Connoisseur, The Queen of Hearts!” it cried, all in one breath, which seemed to tire it out quite a bit.  
Alistair leaned towards Lizzie. “That’s a lot of titles,” he whispered, “Don’t you think there should be at least a little room for breath? He almost didn’t make it to the end.”  
Lizzie sniffed. “My mother holds many titles, and all of them are just as important. Somebody has to say them.”  
Alistair was about to reply, but Lizzie quickly pushed him back as the tallest lady he had ever seen walked in through the round door. She was dressed in what looked like seven different red and gold dresses, each over the top of each other, and the crinoline puffed out more and more aggressively with each one, accidentally knocking away the tiger as she lifted her leg to climb the stairs to the platform at the end of the room. Her sleeves were even bulshy-er than Lizzie’s and even began to obscure her face when she moved her arms. She climbed the stairs and settled with some difficulty onto the throne there, bunching up her masses of layers so that she would fit. She turned to look at Alistair with piercing green eyes, expectant.  
“You must be the Queen of Hearts,” he smiled, and quickly curtsied, like his mother said she did (he wasn’t wearing a skirt, but he hoped it got the point across).  
“Yes, I must be, mustn’t I?” the Queen of Hearts smiled back at him. “I know that no one else could bear to do it. It’s a hard thing, you know, being queen, and I’m glad you recognise it. That’s why I must be, and must continue to be, until I can be or must no more and then little Lizzie must be instead.” She smiled warmly at Lizzie, and Alistair was struck by a faint pain of recognition, remembering how his mother smiled at him the same way. The Queen of Hearts looked back to him. “And while you are under no obligation to be Alistair, I think you are, aren’t you?”  
He nodded. “I’m sorry for being so early, Your Majesty. I understand it’s caused some trouble for people.”  
The Queen of Hearts waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, no trouble! Just surprise, and a healthy surprise is a good thing for a Wonderlandian. It’s so lovely to have a second Alice so soon - I do hope you’ve had a nice trip so far.”  
“Trip?” Alistair repeated. He wasn’t sure why the word surprised him, but it reminded him suddenly of the passing time. This adventure was only a trip; he would have to return above ground sooner or later, but who would be left there? Would he survive without his mother? Would the following men find him again?  
The Queen of Hearts frowned. “Oh, is that not the right word?” she asked. “I am sorry, my Grimmlic is still a little slippish in the mind. Holiday? I suppose?”  
Alistair shook his head quickly. “No, I’m sorry, that is the right word, and I have had a nice time meeting everyone, but I suppose I’d just forgotten that this was just a trip. I know I’m meant to go back after all this, but… I’m afraid I’m not sure if I _can_ go home.”  
“What?” Lizzie asked, turning to stare at Alistair.  
The Queen of Hearts raised her eyebrows. “Curious,” she said, “Every Alice and Alistair we’ve ever had has always left after a while. What makes you think you can’t return home?”  
Alistair took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. His mother flashed in his mind again, her smile, her hugs, her picture, pressed into his palm, kept folded up forever inside his jacket pocket. The following men, the dark, the grip on his wrist, the little plastic bags, all over the living room floor.  
He looked to the Queen of Hearts again. “I’ll try to explain.”


	8. SEVENTH. the welcome

“My mother told me to come here,” Alistair began slowly. “She’d always told me about Wonderland, and all the nice people who lived here. She’d visited herself, you see, when she was my age.”  
“Your mother was the last Alice?” Lizzie asked, clearly shocked.  
“I mean… I think so. Why, is that bad?”  
The Queen of Hearts was leaning forward in her throne, bewilderment also obvious on her face. “No,” she said, “but I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Every Alice, every Alistair, they were always different. I’ve never found two that knew each other. This is very curious indeed - go on.”  
Alistair nodded. “She made me promise that if things got too dangerous where we were, and she told me to go to the rabbit-hole, I would go there, and come to Wonderland. She said it was safe here, and that as soon as things got better at home she would try to come and take me back, but she also said she might not be able to. That’s why she gave me her picture - so I wouldn’t forget her if I was here for a long time.”  
Alistair reached for the zip pocket in his jacket - he’d only ever had one jacket, so he knew it would be there. He unzipped it, and gently pulled out the little rectangular photo his mother had pressed into his hand on his seventh birthday and told him to memorise. The edges were a little frayed, but the image was still clear. Alice looked out at nothing with smiling eyes, her blonde hair falling slightly in her face, holding a tiny Alistair to her chest. She was laughing, and though her face was thin and pointed, her smile was still warm. Tears prickled behind Alistair’s eyes as he looked at her.  
The Queen of Hearts held out her hand.  
“May I see it?” she asked gently.  
“Of course,” he said, and walked to the throne to hand the picture to her. She took it between finger and thumb, and placed it carefully in her cupped hand. Her eyes lit up at once with recognition.  
“That’s her,” she whispered, and looked to the benches. “Albus, Madoc, would you come and look? I’m sure this is her.”  
Albie and the Hatter rose and went to stand beside the Queen of Hearts, squinting at the picture.  
“Oh, certainly, that’s our Alice,” Albie nodded rapidly. “My goodness, she’s barely changed at all!”  
“Thinner, she is,” said the Hatter, “Like a bogwraith, now. And pale, how pale!”  
“But you agree, it’s her?” the Queen of Hearts questioned. He nodded.  
Alistair took back the photo, and slid it back into the pocket, making sure it was zipped securely. “She told me everything I needed to do once I got here. That’s why I knew to drink from the bottle in the hall to make myself smaller. She told me that the cake made you grow, and the drink made you shrink. I remembered the last bit because it rhymed.”  
“Of course,” the Hatter smiled at him, moving back to the bench, “As is the best way to remember anything.”  
“And do you think your mother will come to get you soon?” asked the Queen of Hearts.  
Alistair frowned, and felt the teary prickle in his eyes return. “No, I don’t. Something happened… the following men came back. Mum was running from them for a long time. They followed her, and sometimes they followed me. Once they tried to take me away, but Mum got me back, and they followed us even more after that.”  
“Why were they following you?” asked Lizzie.  
“I’m not really sure,” Alistair replied. “Mum never told me everything. She said she would explain once we were safe, but we never really were. I know that Mum needed medicine, but it was expensive, because she could only get it from one man and he wanted a lot of money. She sold lots of things, and then sometimes she stole things as well, which was bad, but it was only because the medicine was starting to cost more and more.” He looked quickly to the Queen of Hearts. “I know not to steal things,” he clarified, and she nodded gently at him.  
“And one day Mum said she got a job so we didn’t have to sell things anymore, but something happened. I think the man she was working for turned out to be bad, so she stole something he had and sold it. It was something made out of gold, I think, and it turned out he really liked it and sent people to get it back, but because we didn't have it we had to run away. They just kept following us, though, and Mum said they didn't just want money to pay for it, and that's why they tried to take me. I was a payment."  
The Queen of Hearts' brow was furrowed. "And when the following men came this time?"  
Alistair opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to say anything, feeling his throat tighten as he remembered. "I had to go," he managed. "We were locked in the kitchen. She told me to find the rabbit-hole. I had to go." The prickly tears rolled down his face, and he quickly wiped them away. "Do you think I should have stayed?" he asked the Queen of Hearts. "Should I not have left her alone?"  
"You did exactly as your mother asked," she replied, but her face was flushing a little. "There was nothing else you could have done. What beasts those men are. Taking a child from his mother, hurting our Alice-" she pressed her lips together quickly, and breathed deep. The red receded from her face, and she stood up, striding towards the edge of the platform. The tiger from before quickly scrambled to place a small staircase in front, and the Queen of Hearts descended it without looking. She stopped in front of Alistair, her gaze piercing as she placed a hand on his shoulder.  
"Welcome to Wonderland, Alistair. Your mother was right to send you - I will see to it that you are always safe here." She smiled down at him, warm and familiar. A few more tears prickled from Alistair's eyes.  
"Thank you," he replied.  
"It's the very least to do." The Queen of Hearts looked up at the Council Room once more. "I would properly begin the Royal Greeting, but it seems you've already met everyone!" She gestured to Lizzie. "Of course, you know Elizabeth."  
"It's just Lizzie," Lizzie muttered quietly to Alistair. "Call me Elizabeth and die."  
Kitty appeared suddenly beside them, like switching on a light, which made Alistair jump. She grinned serenely, as if she'd been there all along.  
"He's met me too, Your Majesty," she said. "I pointed him towards the tea table."  
"That was rather traditional of you, Katherine," commented the Queen of Hearts. "Not what I'd expect from a Cheshire."  
Kitty shrugged. "Sometimes it's more strange to do what people think."  
At that moment, a brimming teacup came sailing through the air towards Alistair, and he stumbled out of the way, leaving it to smash on the floor where he'd been standing.  
"Oh, potch luck, Alistair!" called Madeline, racing over from the benches, teapot in hand. "That was your cup of merriroot, why didn't you catch it?"  
Alistair sputtered. "Because you can't catch a cup of tea in midair, that's im-" he caught himself quickly, remembering what happened when Kitty had told her what was impossible. He glanced at her, seeing her narrow eyes egg him on, but turned away. "I'm not a good catcher," he sufficed to say. "Sorry, Madeline."  
"Oh, it's no bother nor bear," she smiled, "I'll make some more. And Maddie's name enough, no need for lines!"  
"Um," a small voice sounded from behind Kitty, "I haven't got to say hello."  
"Oh, of course, Bunny ran off!" remarked Maddie, and tapped Alistair on the shoulder. "Look, you've caught up to her, with just your two legs and all!"  
Kitty pulled Bunny in front of her, who was once more a little girl, and looked just as nervous as when she'd seen Alistair for the first time. Not entirely sure of what to do, he put forward his hand.  
"I'm sorry about interrupting your decorating," he said, "And being so early. You looked quite upset, I hope you're alright now."  
Bunny looked at his hand for a moment, nose twitching. "That's OK," she replied. "I didn't really want to do it anyway. Decorating, I mean. I'm not good at it. My hand shakes too much. And it's OK that you were early. I put my clocks forward, and now we have a new friend." She reached forward and shook Alistair's hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm. "My name is Bunny."  
"I know," he said, and Maddie laughed.  
“You already know everyone so well, Alistair!” she said, handing him another cup of tea that came from nowhere. “Perhaps you’ve been here all along!”  
He took a sip from the cup, and recognised the sweet flavour right away. It tasted like marshmallow, and aniseed, and something like chocolate, but not quite. It was the tea his mother brewed for him on his birthdays, a few leaves pulled from a tiny cloth bag. Merriroot. He looked down at the cup, seeing his reflection shiver in the pale violet liquid.  
“Yes,” Alistair smiled. “I think I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!!!! not only is this the first fic i've ever posted on the internet, it's also the first one i've ever actually finished, which should honestly have been easier considering the miniscule scope of the plot but w/e we move  
> shoutout to aisforarsenic for letting me use their chosen first name for the hatter - madoc - bc god knows i can't think of decent names for characters. i literally named the white rabbit albus which means white so that's the level of creativity i'm operating on rn  
> anyway hope this wasn't too boring and let me know what ya'll think!!!!! i'm off to sleep for 17 hours xx


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